


Kiss It Better

by turnitup



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnitup/pseuds/turnitup
Summary: He wouldn't say that he enjoys being injured but he has discovered that the best part is reassuring his boys that he's okay.
Relationships: Clay Spenser & Sonny Quinn, Sonny Quinn & Trent Sawyer, Sonny Quinn/Clay Spenser, Sonny Quinn/Clay Spenser/Trent Sawyer, Trent Sawyer & Clay Spenser, Trent Sawyer/Clay Spenser
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Kiss It Better

**Author's Note:**

> \--TRIGGER WARNING--  
> The following reading contains content relating to a consensual and explicit sexual relationship between three adult men. 
> 
> If this is something that could be potentially triggering or offensive to you, please do not continue reading.

Awareness returned abruptly, all at once, and Clay really wished it hadn’t. Pain swamped every sense. He couldn’t remember what had happened or why he hurt, but holy hell did he hurt _everywhere_. A rough touch trailed along one side of his body and the pain flared to agony. Whimpering, Clay tried weakly to object, to escape, to make the pain stop.

“Easy, Six! Stand down!”

“You’re going to be alright, brother, but you have to let Trent work.”

The words were nigh meaningless. They fragmented to nonsense, unable to win through the haze of pain and the sudden chill that wracked his body. The voices, though, were the most comforting thing he’d ever heard. Calmed, he stopped fighting, and his sense of reality ebbed away once more as a loving, tender voice whispered unintelligible promises in his ear.

* * *

_Warm._

With a contented sigh, Clay snuggled closer to the bulk pressed against his stomach. Smooth skin brushed against his chest – he was naked, when had that happened? – and a twinge of pain rattled through his ribs, cascading outward to tingle through every limb. He shuddered, whimpered, quivered against whoever was spooned beside him.

“Keep still, Clay,” whispered Sonny in his ear.

 _At least Son is alright_.

Clay couldn’t remember why Sonny might not be alright, couldn’t remember why his body hurt, but he felt the conviction in his aching bones that Sonny was almost very, very not alright. Gentle hands skimmed over Clay’s shoulders, thumbs massaging, fingers caressing, urging him wordlessly to ease. Clay sighed and relaxed. Warmth lined up along his back to match the warmth along his front, and heat that had nothing to do with being cuddled diffused through his body.

“Wha’ happ’n’d?” Clay mumbled. One of the hands rubbing his back snaked around to loosely enfold his middle. There was a momentary flare of pain, but then Sonny rubbed gently down his belly, and Trent shimmied his ass against Clay’s crotch, and arousal flared hot and overpowered the discomfort.

“You a little scrambled GQ?”

“S-vest,” murmured Trent sleepily. “Took the shot when Son said to take cover. S-vest clacked off. Son is pissed.”

“I am not _pissed,_ I’m just—”

“Why’d I do a stupid thing like that?” was what Clay wanted to say. He wasn’t sure how many of the syllables actually left his mouth. An idea – or maybe it was a memory? – niggled at him. “Wassit after helo crash?”

“You do remember,” said Sonny, relieved. Sonny’s hand trailed lower, flicking at the hairs that thickened towards Clay’s crotch, and Clay’s back arched as pleasure spread from the touch. He’d scarce breathed his bliss aloud when pain stabbed through him, sparked by his movements. Sonny’s arm went stiff, fingers digging into the unhurt skin of Clay’s lower abdomen. “I – _we_ – want to take care of you, Sunshine, but if you can’t keep still, we’ll have to stop.”

“Don’t wanna stop,” added Trent.

“Me neither,” Clay agreed fervently.

“Saved my life earlier,” Trent continued. “Saved both our lives. Should thank you proper.” He rubbed his ass over Clay’s thickening erection and the edge of a plug snagged on the sensitive flesh. Instinct urged Clay to stiffen – not just his cock, but his abs, his arms, as every muscle longed to be taut, to take Trent – but he forced himself to remain relaxed. Sonny cooed wordless approval in his ear. A flicker of memory returned: the dark, dry, reeking cave; the HVT roaring in fury; the mound of torn bits of flesh and cracked bones that were all that remained of the hostage; the cold, visceral fear that if Clay didn’t stop him, that shredded, unrecognizable corpse could be his boys. Clay could lose all his remaining family in one fell swoop. No matter the cost to himself, he would never let that happen.

“Shh.” Trent’s voice, so present and real and close, cut through the memories. “You’re alright. We’re here. We’re not going to leave you.” Clay returned to the moment with the realization that whimpers were leaking from him, his chest ached, and tears filled his eyes. Hands threaded through his shaggy hair, a palm spread reassuringly over his belly. Sonny’s hot breath ghosted over his neck, Trent’s struck his cheek. Clay hadn’t noticed Trent turning around but now instead of his ass pressed to Clay’s cock, Trent’s nose nuzzled at Clay’s face, Trent’s throbbing erection brushed against Clay’s.

“Fuck. I love you, T,” Clay breathed.

“I know you do,” murmured Trent, ghosting kisses against the line of Clay’s jaw. “But next time can you show at least a fricken smidge of self-preservation?”

“That’s rich, coming from _you_ ,” Sonny huffed, words muffled as he sucked hickeys into Clay’s shoulder.

“I need you,” whispered Trent. Clay gasped, at the intimacy and vulnerability of Trent’s tone, at the hand that skimmed down Clay’s side and took hold of his cock, at the hardness suddenly pressed to his ass. “I need both of you so bad.”

“You have us,” Sonny promised.

“Both of us,” agreed Clay fervently.

So much went unsaid, about Bravo, about Ash, about loneliness and brotherhood and war and blood and pain and remorse and guilt, about all the things they, as a threesome, never talked about.

The thoughts flew from Clay’s head as Trent shifted. Strong arms lifted Clay’s hips and a leg shimmied between Clay and the bed; Trent’s other leg wrapped around Clay’s waist, pressing Sonny hard against Clay’s back, pivoting Trent’s hips to rub the plug over Clay’s cock once more. A hand – Clay couldn’t have said whose – reached between Clay and Trent, plucked the plug free, held Clay’s cock steady as Trent sank down onto it. The angles were awkward, uncomfortable, but as heat and tightness and slickness closed around Clay he couldn’t bring himself to care. They’d been together for months, but every time felt like the first time. Every time felt _amazing_.

“Trent,” Clay choked, garbling the simple word.

“You okay, babe?” Trent panted in his ear, holding still.

“So good,” he breathed. “Feels so good.”

“Don’t move,” Sonny reminded him, voice harsh.

“Won’t, I—” He groaned as Trent _wiggled_. Their interwoven bodies scarce allowed more movement than that, but Trent was able to draw his hips back slightly, and roll them forward slightly, and as small as each movement was, it felt like heaven around Clay’s cock. A burst of pain from his injuries was subsumed by bliss as Trent rolled his hips again, again, and Clay choked, unable to find the words he’d been about to speak, unable even to remember that he’d been talking.

With the blankets pulled over them, the air quickly grew hot and close, humid, filled with the sounds of sweat-slickened bodies rubbing together and panting breath. Trent was silent, as was his wont. A lifetime of sharing bunks had trained him to keep his pleasure secret, to be ashamed of the beautiful noises he made when his boys made him lose control. Clay didn’t need sound to know that Trent was enjoying himself, though; it was evident in the spasming of the fingers he curled around Clay’s shoulder, in the increasingly quick breaths he puffed against Clay’s lips, in his shivering restraint as he forced himself to continue to rock his hips slowly and steadily. Clay longed to hold, to kiss, to thrust, to roll Trent onto his back and fuck him until they both lost control of themselves, but Sonny’s hand on his waist was a palpable restraint, Sonny’s cock against Clay’s ass a promise, Sonny’s teeth nipping at his neck a repeated pinprick of pain that helped dim the more intense pain of his torso.

“Clay!” Trent gasped, biting back a moan, as his hips slammed unexpectedly hard against Clay’s cock, against Clay’s hips. Despite his efforts to keep still, Clay’s head strained back, his eyes opened for the first time since he’d woken up. In the darkness of their room, Trent was a sinuous black silhouette before him, his only distinguishable feature his eyes, glimmering as they picked up what little light there was.

“So beautiful, Trent,” Clay breathed, awed.

Trent’s hips slammed into Clay again and he grunted, groaned, realized what was going on: Sonny had reached one arm around to grasp Trent’s ass and steer him hard into every thrust. Sonny’s other hand left Clay’s stomach, wrapped around Trent’s cock where it strained, captured between Trent and Clay’s bodies, and stroked. Trent’s heavy breathing broke into panting whimpers he couldn’t restrain. As close together as they were, Clay was viscerally aware of Trent’s tension ratcheting up, his body growing tight with pleasure, his movements growing increasingly jerky and erratic. It was all Clay could do to keep himself calm. If he moved, if he threw himself into the moment, he would come, Goddamn he’d come so hard, but he’d also aggravate his stitches and irritate Sonny. He’d promised to keep still. So he did, as Sonny worked Trent’s body around Clay’s cock, as Trent’s hole clenched more and more tightly around him, as lube squelched and Trent’s fingers dug bruises into Clay’s biceps and Trent’s lips whispered incoherent pleas into Clay’s cheek. The tension grew until it suddenly snapped; Trent groaned and hot liquid splashed Clay’s belly. Clay’s lungs heave for air; only stabs of pain kept Clay from panting, grounded him, held back his own orgasm. Trent slowly ground to a halt, pressing tear-filled eyes to Clay’s face.

“Good boys,” Sonny purred. Clay shivered; Trent moaned, shaking his head. “Clay, did you come?”

“No,” he whispered, sad for no reason he could pinpoint.

“Such good boys,” repeated Sonny. The vague sense of sadness was replaced with the warm glow his Texan’s praises only brought.

Hands moved, bodies shifted, and before Clay could process what was happening Sonny was pressing his slickened fingers against Clay’s unprepped hole. Not that much prep was ever needed; they had sex often enough that Clay’s body was well-prepared for any intrusion. One, two quick fingers and Sonny’s hands seemed to be everywhere as he slowly filled Clay, caressing, teasing, and ultimately wrapping around Trent to hold Trent’s hips in place, ensure that Clay’s hard cock stayed buried deep in Trent’s body.

For an endless moment, a lifetime of flickering pleasure interspersed with pained breaths, Sonny didn’t move.

Then his hips pivoted back, thrust in hard, forced Clay’s hips to thrust into Trent’s taut body, and all three men groaned. There were no more words after that. Trent clung to Clay and shook as Sonny’s aggressive strokes worked Clay’s cock within Trent’s body, overstimulating him. Clay struggled to draw enough air without triggering his injuries to agony. Helpless, sandwiched between his best friend and their lover – their partner – their boyfriend – their family – everything that Trent was to both of them – Clay couldn’t move. He could only feel: the exquisite drag of Sonny’s cock within him, the rub of hardness against his rim, the press of erection against his prostate, the drag and clench of Trent’s hole around Clay’s aching cock, the vocal breaths Sonny blew roughly into his ear, the precious whimpers that Trent couldn’t hold back each time Clay pressed into his body. Clay was hyper aware of both other men, keyed in to every bitten off word that Sonny couldn’t hold back, every twitch of Trent’s cock as more come dribbled from him.

“My Sunshine,” growled Sonny possessively, fucking him hard. “ _My boys_.”

“Son!”

Pleasure whited out the room. Trent burst out an unrestrained sob of bliss, Sonny’s words once again grew indistinct but his growls trembled through Clay’s body like touch, and even immobilized, Clay couldn’t hold back any longer. With a broken groan, his hips pushed weakly forward and he spilled within Trent’s body, unable to keep himself from moving and chasing bliss. There was no feeling save rapture, no sense save pleasure. The pain, at least for the moment, was completely gone.

No one moved for long minutes as the sweltering heat beneath the blankets gradually dissipated. Clay blinked and lost seconds; though he’d swear only a moment had passed, each time he opened his eyes again someone had moved, or some feeling had changed, and he had the vague sense that minutes were passing. Barely awake, he languished on the bed as Trent and Sonny moved around him – disentangling their bodies, using tissues to clean up come and lube and sweat, gently repositioning Clay into a comfortable position, and, finally, crawling back into bed and cradling him like he was something – someone – precious. Trent wrapped around his back, Sonny embraced his front, facing him, arms wrapped around both Trent and Clay.

Comforted, healed, supported, loved, Clay drifted happily off to sleep.


End file.
